"Messire, fain would I shelter me in Belsaye, for there is fire and sword and battle on the marches. But the way is long, and on my road hither two rogues took from me purse and scrip. Give me, therefore, enough to bear me on my way."
"Aye, verily! Roger, thou dost bear the purse. Give him store of money and some of our food--see that he lacketh for nothing, Roger." So saying, Beltane turned him away and fell again to pondering his father's words.
Now at sound of Roger's name the blind man started round and fixed Roger with the horror of his eyeless sockets, and, therewith, flung up an arm as though fearing a blow; and behold! this arm was but a mutilated stump, for hand was there none.
"Roger!" he whispered, "not Roger the Black? No, no! There be a many Rogers. But who art thou dost bear such a name, and wherefore cower and gasp ye?"
Then stood the blind man with head out-thrust and awful arm upraised, before which Black Roger shrank and shrank to cower in the deeper shadow.
Of a sudden the blind man turned and coming beside Beltane, grasped him by the mantle.
"Lord," he questioned, "who is he that trembleth before the maimed and blind?--who is he that croucheth yonder?"
"Nay, fear ye nothing," said Beltane, "'tis none but my trusty Roger, my good comrade in arms--comfort ye!" Then he beckoned Roger and took the purse and gave to the blind man bounteously, saying: "See now, when you shall come to Belsaye go you to Eric that hath command of the town and to Giles that is captain of the archers, and say that I, Beltane, will come to Belsaye within the week, and all our company with me, God willing. Bid them be vigilant and watch for our coming; let bows be strung and wall and turret manned night and day. So now fare thee well, and God's hand guide thy sightless going."
Then the blind man blessed Beltane, and turning, forthwith set out upon his way, and his staff tapped loud upon the forest-road. Right joyfully Beltane strode on again, his mind ever busied with thought of his father; but Roger's step was listless and heavy, so that Beltane must needs turn to look on him, and straightway marvelled to see how he hung his head, and that his ruddy cheek was grown wondrous pale and haggard.
"Roger?" quoth he, "art sick, Roger?"
"Sick, lord? nay--not sick, 'tis but that I--I--" But when he would have said more his voice failed him, his lip fell a-quivering, and even as Beltane stared in wonder, Black Roger groaned and flung himself upon his knees, and hid his face within his hands.